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Next Issue Peter Scupham at 85: a celebration Contributions by Anne Stevenson, Robert Wells, Peter Davidson, Lawrence Sail

This poem is taken from PN Review 68, Volume 15 Number 6, July - August 1989.

A Poem C.H. Sisson


Was silence the best they said?
Was it? For no
The answer was, from the dead.
How should they know?

"You who stand by our graves
And vainly boast,"
They gravely said, "are slaves,
And more than most.

"Our words are gone and done,
We have no use for them:
You, in the rain and sun,
Move towards Bethlehem.

"Presenting gold and myrrh,
The fine, the sad,
You who are where we were
Have what we had

"- Thoughts which do not return,
Flying away
Over the trees which learn
Nothing to say.

"Their whisper still remains,

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